Late at night, after a long day at the plant and a long night at the bar, one of the McManus brothers might get lucky and end up leading some hot, drunk patron of McGuinty's up the four flights of stairs to their one room loft. Usually they were too busy with their guest to think much about the sparse mess that awaited. Sometimes one brother was still sober enough to wait outside until all was said and done – more often than not, by the time one of the twins had convinced a lady friend to come up with him, the other was passed out on his own mattress.

The snoring a scant three feet away had turned off a few girls, never mind the prospect of an audience in the open room, but privacy was an irrelevancy to the McManus brothers. Especially drunk, they couldn't be made to understand. "Me brother's sleepin," they'd assure the girl. "He doesna care anyways!" More than a few girls had stormed off without getting what they'd come for, leaving the poor horny brother to take care of himself, alone, in the dark, to a backdrop of drunken snickering from his twin.

Heaven forbid if they should both manage to find a girl on the same night.

…

Actually, that might not be such a bad idea.